


The President

by Lilium125



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Council, Domination, Humiliation, M/M, Orders, President, Voyeurism, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilium125/pseuds/Lilium125
Summary: This fanfic is for the RNMevents, RaMSecretSanta2020!« I'm getting bored, Puppy. Make this meeting a little more fun », as he said it, he lowered his hands under the table and everyone could hear the rattle of his belt being unbuttoned, followed immediately by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Some of the Rick's exchanged a stunned, confused look.« Suck it », was the dry and precise order. With a faint blush on his cheeks, the little soldier at hisside knelt, slipping under the table until he was between Evil Morty's spread legs, who had pulled out his flaccid member, waiting for attention.
Relationships: Evil Morty/Morty Smith (Rick and Morty)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The President

The tie knot was perfect, as flawless as ever, but the President was still standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the silky material to his liking. From the reflection of the polished glass he could see Morty looking at his back; a soldier - a man of precise military bearing - patiently waiting for orders from his superior.

Both were dressed in black; the President in typical attire of a black shirt and pants, and a red tie. Morty wore the Citadel Guard uniform, however, instead of the typical white with gold inserts, the uniform that adorned the Morty was black with red inserts as to emphasize that he was the President’s favorite soldier. His little, faithful right arm.

They were in the room where the former Rick Council used to meet; a large, gilded, oval table sat in the center of the room. Great windows that overlooked the Citadel rose tall and imposing at the far end of the lavish space; they featured spectacular views. Evil Morty looked down at the city below him, populated by Ricks and Mortys; countless versions of his alternate selves who continued on with their unsuspecting lives, focused only on their daily tasks.

The oversized golden door opened behind the President, and a dozen Ricks from the new Council, followed by half a dozen armed guards, swept in briskly and proceeded to arrange themselves around the table, the guards standing behind the Ricks who took their assigned seats.

Once, this room hosted meetings on how to manage and govern the Citadel, now it was a

suspended blackmail, a sword of Damocles hangs over each of the heads of all of the Ricks sitting around that table; each glancing at their dictator, each who feared him, each who hated him.

When everyone was settled in their seats, as silent as the dead, the President finally turned to face them, walking towards the seat at the head of the table; the highest and most embellished chair of all. A king's seat.

_A dictator's seat._

He sat down and immediately an armed Rick brought him over a silver tray with a crystal bottle

containing amber scotch, he poured it into a glass with ice and walked away to return to his own seat.

There was not a sound in that room. Only reverential silence. Behind Evil Morty, Morty stood

straight, proud, and as perfect as ever. On his neck, barely hidden behind the collar of his uniform, were bruised marks of possession, hickeys and bite marks that his owner had left behind. Although it was difficult to see them, many of the Ricks present noticed them, yet, they were all too afraid to say anything.

« The Council is in session. Please explain to me the points that are to be argued on today », Evil Morty spoke up, breaking the silence with his calm, cold, calculated voice.

One of the Ricks at the back of the table cleared his throat and began flipping through some notes to present to his boss; primarily featuring any Citadel problems that needed to be solved. The President listened without intervening, as always. Usually, their meetings worked like this: the Ricks discussed all of the issues, President Morty listened to them in silence, once things had been discussed they skimmed all of the issues that needed to be addressed, prioritizing them by level of urgency, and only at the end did the President make the final word on decision making. The final decision was always and only ever up to the President.

The Ricks began to argue aloud, often at odds with each other, especially the General of the Militia and the Director of the Industrial District - who was the boss of the factory that produced the fluid that was needed to power the portal guns, and most importantly, the Citadel itself. The two Ricks were in constant disagreement, continually, about everything. They hated each other deeply and often contradicted each other out of pure spite, just to see the other squirm. Yet, as eager and as often as they would raise their voices in discussions, all of those Ricks were diligently silent as soon as the President raised an arm or muttered in a low voice, asking them to calm down. This time was one of those times where Morty demanded silence from the overbearing ruckus. 

Evil Morty raised a hand to his most loyal soldier and Morty walked over to him, awaiting orders.

The room immediately fell silent.

« I'm getting bored, Puppy. Make this meeting a little more fun », as he said it, he lowered his hands under the table and everyone could hear the rattle of his belt being unbuttoned, followed immediately by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Some of the Rick's exchanged a stunned, confused look.

« Suck it », was the dry and precise order. With a faint blush on his cheeks, the little soldier at his

side knelt, slipping under the table until he was between Evil Morty's spread legs, who had pulled out his flaccid member, waiting for attention.

The Ricks moved uncomfortably in their chairs, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. They couldn't see what was going on under the table, but the humid noises coming from under there left little room for imagination.

« Continue with the meeting, I don't have all day », the second order seemed to draw

attention of all those present, who resumed the speech that had been left pending. This time,

however, their voices were lower, the sentences were distracted, many unable to follow the thread of the conversation. Even the General no longer quarreled with the Director. They had to pretend that nothing was happening, but no doubt, everyone under that table had an erection.

Morty sucked with relish, he was embarrassed, but he felt safe from their stares, hiding under the table. He had been raised with the belief that all orders must be carried out, every order from a superior was law. And if his President gave orders, he obeyed in silence. There was no shame that could stop him, there was no embarrassment that could make him hesitate.

There, in the dim light under the table, surrounded only by the legs of a dozen Ricks, with his

hands resting on Evil Morty's thighs, lavishing his master’s cock, he felt strangely safe. Any Morty would have been terrified of doing such a thing; sat beneath the table, taking care of the President, was comparable to two cats arousing the hunger of ten ravenous lions trapped in the same cage.

" _As long as you're with me, no one will hurt you_ ".

The President's hand dropped under the table again, sinking into Morty's hair to dictate the rhythm, dropping his head against the high back of his luxury chair and indulging in a long, loud moan, which brought silence back to the room, intentionally drawing attention to himself.

After an intense second of silence, one of the Ricks was able to speak again, picking up the previously dropped subject, but by now there were few who listened to him. Many had started masturbating under the table, trying not to be seen, but Evil Morty smiled cruelly, clapping his hand on the table and looking at them one by one.

« Order to my Council. Everyone's hands must be on the table, clearly visible ».

Everyone obeyed, but the tension was palpable among the members of the new council, who threw hateful and lustful looks at the President. He did not lose his smile as he continued to pant aloud, without shame. This was what excited him the most; to hold all of those Ricks, who had only to submit to his orders and tantrums. He risked coming several times, seeing their excited and submissive faces in front of him.

But he wanted to prove more, he wanted to drive them crazy with desire by preventing them, not only from enjoying themselves, but also from being able to find relief to all of that pent up desire by masturbating.

« Stand up, soldier », he commanded, and Morty immediately came out from under the table,

wiping the saliva that wet his swollen red lips with the back of his hand. He blushed at the feeling of the horny, envious looks those Ricks bore into him, but he did not lose his flawless bearing, awaiting the next order from the President - which was not long in coming.

Evil Morty stood up and took Morty’s chin between his fingers, kissing those red lips and sucking them. He didn't show the slightest embarrassment in showing everyone his hard member, still hanging out of his pants.

With a smooth, swift movement, he unfastened the soldier's belt, lowering his pants to the ground. As if he already knew what to do, with his face red with shame, Morty stepped over them, leaving his lower body naked, apart from the black uniform boots still on his feet.

« Sit down ».

Morty sat on the table, shamelessly spreading his legs in front of his President and turning his back to all of the Ricks; who had completely stopped talking, watching the scene with wide eyes, shocked, but equally excited. 

One of them tried to touch again, but one of the armed guards, a Morty, clicked the rifle's

magazine as a warning and the Rick immediately froze, shaking with desire at Morty's high voice panting with pleasure.

In fact, the President had started masturbating him in front of everyone, putting two fingers in his

mouth to have them licked. Morty obeyed, panting and moaning against those fingers, licking them with the tip of his tongue and letting Evil Morty slide them down his throat, before pulling them out and bringing them towards the boy's opening, to wet it well with his saliva.

The Dictator spoke slightly louder than usual so that he could be heard over the groans of his soldier.

« I don't hear your voices. Is the meeting already over? Should I have to dismiss you all? ».

The Ricks immediately started talking to each other again, but their words were clips of meaningless conversation. No one, no matter how hard they tried, could take their eyes off of the sight before them, throwing fleeting glances at the two boys, trying not to get caught.

Evil Morty was milking the little soldier, fingering him, making him moan louder and louder. He

lowered himself gently against his neck, kissing him softly, defiantly looking at all of the Ricks

over the boy's shoulder.

« You know what you have to say, right Puppy? ».

« L-look at me! », Morty gasped, tilting his head back in pleasure. Although he was ashamed to death, with Evil Morty around he still felt protected. None of those Ricks could have hurt him…

Everyone turned to look, desperate and eager, as if they could no longer wait, as if they were at their breaking point, but Evil Morty didn't seem satisfied.

« No, Puppy. You must _say it properly_ _»._

Morty moaned louder, almost on the verge of screaming, feeling his body begin to shake under the shock of his impending orgasm.

« Look at me w-while the P-President makes me c-cum ».

Everyone's eyes were glued to the President who masturbated and fingered the boy mercilessly. Finally, taught, sweaty and desperate, with his hands balled and his back arched, Morty came with a full body shudder, shaking and gasping for air. Ropes of come dirtying the table and his black soldier's uniform, on which the drops of semen contrasted beautifully, like pearls.

Evil Morty hugged Morty tightly before making space between his still trembling legs and pulling Morty towards him by the thighs. Bringing him to the edge of the table, he began rubbing his erection against his Puppy’s opening, that was still a little red from the night before and from the fingers that had penetrated him a few seconds ago.

Morty instinctively closed his legs against the President's body, who leaned over him and looked dominantly one by one into the lustful eyes of each Rick. He held Morty close possessively, preparing to penetrate him.

Morty had recovered from his orgasm, but by now he knew that Evil Morty tended not to - and didn’t particularly like - giving him respite from their fucking. So he avidly fought against the feeling of discomfort, tightening his legs around the waist of the other Morty, who lowered his head to kiss and bite at his neck, sucking a new mark into the soft, pale skin in front of everyone in the room.

« What do you have to say now? ».

Morty gasped deeply as he felt the President's member push inside him, and he accepted it,

tipping his head back again in pleasure, annoyance, and pain.

« Thank you, sir », he gasped in a low voice.

Evil Morty began to push hard, causing Morty to moan and writhe with pleasure; he was

balancing with one arm spread behind him and the other wrapped around the neck of the President. Evil Morty was fucking him brutally, challenging everyone who was present with his eyes, knowing none of them could do anything but watch on in yearning silence.

It was torture for everyone.

Keeping their hands clearly visible on the table so that they could not touch themselves in any way was terrible for the council's Ricks. A Rick with long, pulled back hair - Director of the Fashion District - moved uncomfortably in his chair, trying to create pressure with the crotch of his pants to feel any kind of pleasurable relief; crossing his legs, and rubbing against the fabric.

The Rick sitting right next to the President, on the other hand, was so close to the Morty on the table that if he stretched out his arm a little he could have touched him, and had to battle against himself and the unbearable temptation to touch that hot and sweaty skin; but after Evil Morty huffed out a long, high-pitched moan, Rick sprang to his feet, ready to grab him and make him his then and there.

Two guards, a Morty and a Rick - who also had a clear erection - immediately pointed their guns at his head, yelling at him to sit down immediately.

« Let him look – he President panted, looking him dead in the eye – « From this perspective he can see even better ».

Rick was forced to stand and watch, unable to look away for even a second. Everyone had to watch until the end.

The first to look down was the General of the Militia, who bit the inside of his cheeks as he came hard into his own pants without a touch, his hands still firmly on the table. His reaction did not go unnoticed by the President, who called him back immediately. His voice was broken by panting and moaning.

« General, would you like to share with us what just happened? ».

The General flushed with anger and shame, clenching his fists on the table to contain the humiliation.

« I came, sir », he said in a low voice, but Morty's moans drowned out his answer and Evil Morty, with a satisfied and cruel smirk, ordered him to repeat himself.

« I couldn’t hear you. I’ll ask again. What just happened? Get up so everyone can hear you », he finally added with a grin, never stopping his continuous thrusts into his Morty’s delicious heat.

« I came, sir! », the General shouted aloud, looking away from the scene before him and hating himself. Because despite the humiliation, he couldn't help but find the whole situation damn hot.

It seemed as though the situation would never end, Evil Morty continued to fuck the boy mercilessly in front of everyone without tiring, observing the Ricks, suffering, one by one in front of him with great satisfaction.

Morty moaned loudly, wrapping his thighs around his President's waist, his eyes closed in shame. Unlike Evil Morty, he had no intention of looking at all those Rick's eyes on him.

Two other Ricks underwent the same treatment as the General, coming only from watching the scene taking place so publicly in front of them, and they too were forced to stand and shamefully admit what had happened in front of everyone. Finally, with the admission of the third Rick, Evil Morty was satisfied. He came inside Morty, who, however, did not reach his second orgasm; the President had not granted it to him and he, even though he was very close to it, had held back with all of his might.

« Good boy », Evil Morty panted hoarsely against his neck, catching his breath and adjusting his

pants, sitting down as if nothing had happened. Morty stood up in turn, paying no mind to having been dirtied with his own semen, that now stained his uniform, and ignoring the President's cum that was running down his legs, still warm from their encounter. He put his pants back on, returning to his place next to the dictator, panting slightly.

The whole situation was absurd, incredible, but very real. Evil Morty wondered how many of these Ricks would go home and jerk off to this encounter later. He briefly considered warding them off from doing so with threat of death. He hummed in thought.

« Continue with the meeting. Within ten minutes I want the report with your arguments in order. After that you are dismissed », Evil Morty concluded, drinking his glass of scotch. The President acted as if nothing had happened, snapping his fingers to call two Morty guards who brought him a new glass with scotch, because all the ice in the old one had melted.

The Ricks that made up the new and improved Council now looked at their boss with pure hatred, yet no one said a word. Their eyes darted between the dictator and the soldier standing beside him, full of frustration.

« Have I made myself clear? », he snapped after a while, realizing that the Rick's attention had not returned to the meeting as he had ordered. There was no need for him to repeat.

Everyone in that room knew the President hated repeating.


End file.
